and shook it vigorously.
‘And you, sir, are Roger Bacon, if I am not mistaken. It is a privilege to meet you.’
Bacon lowered his eyes modestly to the ground.
‘Well, I do not know about that. I admit I have a certain reputation, but you, sir, though new to Paris, are carving out a reputation too.’
For a moment Thomas thought he saw a look of alarm cross Morrish’s face. But then it was gone, to be replaced by a wide grin. Perhaps he had imagined the reaction. The two men were exchanging compliments, and he was excluded from their circle. Until Bacon broke off and beckoned to him to come forward.
‘Thomas, we forget our manners. You are a busy young man, and I must not waste any more of your time than I must in order to carry out our task. You must excuse us, Master Morrish, but Thomas and I have an appointment with some parchment and ink.’
Morrish’s brow furrowed with a look of curiosity, but he contented himself with one question only.
‘You will find time, will you not, to speak to my students? They are a bunch of dunderheads, but you may be able to knock some sense into them.’
Bacon seemed disconcerted by Morrish’s easy charm, but he nodded briefly.
‘Yes, I will gladly do as you say. I must, after all, earn my keep in your school. Payment in kind is all I can offer for the use of your back room. Now, come Thomas, we shall begin.’
Soon the two of them were settled in the damp back room, Thomas with a quill in his hand and a fresh piece of parchment staring blankly up at him on the table. He had ruled the sheet with lines, but there was nothing else on it for now. Soon, it was to be covered with black marks that would capture the ideas of Doctor Mirabilis in some miraculous way. Thomas stared nervously at the page, while Bacon gazed out across the river to the two looming towers of Notre-Dame Cathedral.
The friar took a deep breath and sighed.
‘I have the stink of corruption in my nostrils, so that is where we will begin. Write this down, Thomas.’
ELEVEN
F alconer’s attempt to speak to Queen Eleanor might have failed dismally, if she hadn’t walked in on his conversation with Sir John Appleby. He had sought out the dandified courtier soon after nones in the afternoon. The knight appeared to have dined well and looked soporific. But when Falconer asked to see Eleanor, he immediately bristled.
‘You may have been asked by the king to investigate some unexplained deaths. But that does not give you the right to come here demanding to see the queen.’
Falconer’s attempt to point out that he had ‘demanded’ no such thing was brushed aside.
‘Did not your interview with Clisby and Cloughe satisfy you? Did they not tell you the truth?’
‘Yes and no, Sir John. I have no doubt that they were entirely truthful in so far as they knew the facts. But they could not help on the crucial issue of who told the Assassin to act.’
‘And why do you think the queen can answer that?’ He snorted derisively. ‘The lady can have no idea what caused Anzazim to betray the trust placed in him. Besides, she cannot speak to you as she has left the palace and is already on the way to visit her family in Castile.’
‘That is a pity. I was told she was present immediately after the murder attempt. I thought she may be able to recall something that was said by Anzazim. I dare say that no one has asked her such a question before.’
Falconer looked at Appleby, and was suddenly aware of a look of surprise in Sir John’s eyes. He realized the man’s gaze was fixed, however, not at Falconer but over his shoulder. But before he could turn around, there was the sound of silk rustling and a pleasant voice spoke out.
‘What question might that be, sir?’
Falconer had heard tell that Eleanor was beautiful, but he was not prepared for the person who now stood in the doorway of the chamber. Her figure was well shaped, made more attractive by the swell of pregnancy. Her thick mane of loose hair
‘And you, sir, are Roger Bacon, if I am not mistaken. It is a privilege to meet you.’
Bacon lowered his eyes modestly to the ground.
‘Well, I do not know about that. I admit I have a certain reputation, but you, sir, though new to Paris, are carving out a reputation too.’
For a moment Thomas thought he saw a look of alarm cross Morrish’s face. But then it was gone, to be replaced by a wide grin. Perhaps he had imagined the reaction. The two men were exchanging compliments, and he was excluded from their circle. Until Bacon broke off and beckoned to him to come forward.
‘Thomas, we forget our manners. You are a busy young man, and I must not waste any more of your time than I must in order to carry out our task. You must excuse us, Master Morrish, but Thomas and I have an appointment with some parchment and ink.’
Morrish’s brow furrowed with a look of curiosity, but he contented himself with one question only.
‘You will find time, will you not, to speak to my students? They are a bunch of dunderheads, but you may be able to knock some sense into them.’
Bacon seemed disconcerted by Morrish’s easy charm, but he nodded briefly.
‘Yes, I will gladly do as you say. I must, after all, earn my keep in your school. Payment in kind is all I can offer for the use of your back room. Now, come Thomas, we shall begin.’
Soon the two of them were settled in the damp back room, Thomas with a quill in his hand and a fresh piece of parchment staring blankly up at him on the table. He had ruled the sheet with lines, but there was nothing else on it for now. Soon, it was to be covered with black marks that would capture the ideas of Doctor Mirabilis in some miraculous way. Thomas stared nervously at the page, while Bacon gazed out across the river to the two looming towers of Notre-Dame Cathedral.
The friar took a deep breath and sighed.
‘I have the stink of corruption in my nostrils, so that is where we will begin. Write this down, Thomas.’
ELEVEN
F alconer’s attempt to speak to Queen Eleanor might have failed dismally, if she hadn’t walked in on his conversation with Sir John Appleby. He had sought out the dandified courtier soon after nones in the afternoon. The knight appeared to have dined well and looked soporific. But when Falconer asked to see Eleanor, he immediately bristled.
‘You may have been asked by the king to investigate some unexplained deaths. But that does not give you the right to come here demanding to see the queen.’
Falconer’s attempt to point out that he had ‘demanded’ no such thing was brushed aside.
‘Did not your interview with Clisby and Cloughe satisfy you? Did they not tell you the truth?’
‘Yes and no, Sir John. I have no doubt that they were entirely truthful in so far as they knew the facts. But they could not help on the crucial issue of who told the Assassin to act.’
‘And why do you think the queen can answer that?’ He snorted derisively. ‘The lady can have no idea what caused Anzazim to betray the trust placed in him. Besides, she cannot speak to you as she has left the palace and is already on the way to visit her family in Castile.’
‘That is a pity. I was told she was present immediately after the murder attempt. I thought she may be able to recall something that was said by Anzazim. I dare say that no one has asked her such a question before.’
Falconer looked at Appleby, and was suddenly aware of a look of surprise in Sir John’s eyes. He realized the man’s gaze was fixed, however, not at Falconer but over his shoulder. But before he could turn around, there was the sound of silk rustling and a pleasant voice spoke out.
‘What question might that be, sir?’
Falconer had heard tell that Eleanor was beautiful, but he was not prepared for the person who now stood in the doorway of the chamber. Her figure was well shaped, made more attractive by the swell of pregnancy. Her thick mane of loose hair
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